MooSSBBW

Another darker blog dedicated to fatties. 25. Under-18 DNI.

[fatlifeshortlife]

Dehumanized.

Locked away, bound, hidden from the rest of the world. Body restrained first by rope or chain, then something new. Fed, fattened, forcefully overfilled at every opportunity. A timer, a pump, a hose pushed down your throat, bypassing any attempt you make to stop. Every few hours, filled, like an industrial process, ensuring your stomach is at its limits. Continuing until you are gone - swallowed, smothered, suffocated, by enough lard that whoever you were is a minor detail to the mountain of malleable wobbling flesh you’ve become. Your basic autonomy is denied, left to be handled by your keeper. Any attempt to struggle, meaningless, silenced, by your own willingness to listen and follow your feeder to this place. Isolated, the only things visible being the feeding tube hanging from a mount above, a mirror failing to display just how obscenely overfed you’ve become, and a taunting chart showing a line spiking upward and various photos of what you can only assume are you at different stages of this process. When the feed pumping motor whirs off, the lights soon follow. Only turning on again when your body has created enough space to be filled again. You exist to eat. You are nothing without it, have nothing, can do nothing. Just lay there, fattening further and further, shocked at the start of every new day that you’ve somehow survived another night. Gasping, wheezing, struggling, eyes weeping at the realization that you can no longer see an end to the size of your own body, the folds of fat stretching too far beyond what limited head movement you are allowed. Until one day, the lights don’t turn on again.

[gordisimo]

Hayley's choker getting eaten by the slabs of fat that have piled up over her collarbones.

[ponderingpreferences]

She can't be real. The utterly beautiful Hayley is literally unbelievable.

[onlythefattest-deactivated20220]

[chubby-ronnie]

Helpless

You want to be so fat you are literally helpless to do anything without me. You want to be so fat that walking is a memory; so fat that the only use for your feet is as extra storage for the results of your constant gluttony. You want to be so fat that your upper arms have the size and cushiness of pillows; so swollen that they overcome your elbows. You want to be so fat that even your wrists have rolls; so fat that counting your chins takes both hands. You want to be so fat that your arse acts as your cushion and your anchor, melting over the sides of the king size mattress you call a home. You want to be so fat that your belly surges forward, spreading your legs permanently while making self-pleasure impossible. So fat you are helpless to indulge even that primal need, without me.

You want to be so fat that you become simple. You want your mind to forget about everything difficult and complicated - anything that isn’t about pleasure. You want to forget social niceties. You want to become lost in a constant cycle of gluttony and lust. You want food and sex to be so strongly associated in your dumb mind that even the sight of a meal makes your nethers start to tingle.

You want to be so fat that it consumes you. Not merely physically - you want it to consume *you*, your mind, your life, your personality, everything you are, as thoroughly as you consume meal after meal. You want to be so fat that the things normal people have - friends, hobbies, a job, a life - shrink away while you grow ever wider. Right now your desires are secondary to your life, your work, to social expectations. But you want to be so fat that your desires overwhelm everything. I know you want it. You know you want it. So why don’t you take my hand, and let me help you to be helpless.

[botero300-blog]

legs how they should be

[cutefatbabeee]

thought yall needed an update on how fucking massive my arms are now 🐷

[msfeedeekat-deactivated20260218]

She lies motionless in a custom bed in what was once our bedroom, which contains so much medical equipment monitoring her, keeping her lucid when she's conscious, and keeping her growing, that it might as well be a hospital suite.

Physicians hover around, trying to figure out how she can be so helplessly fat and live. Their job is to keep her comfortable and preferably alive, as well as to help her gain weight safely, if safe can even be such a thing at this size. Her body is nearly amorphous, her arms, legs, and neck swallowed by the encroachment of her own body fat. She is inert, on life support, a feeding tube down her throat pumping calories into her constantly. Multiple ports and IVs provide an entire pharmacy of medications at all times, as well as directly infused nutrients. Every moment without excessive caloric intake is wasted.

She lies propped up by the sacks of fat that form her back, the thickness of her ass pushing her up to even height with me, her spare tire-thick legs keeping her puffy feet well above the sheets. With the fat around her joints locking them out, not even cranes and blocks & tackles could move her legs enough to get her feet to contact the bed. The same goes for pulling her thighs apart.

As I'm not a cruel owner, I made sure to fit her with a remote vibrator and a few other toys back when I could access her pussy. They're designed to pulse at the rate her feeding pumps run. She sleeps about 20 hours a day, but she can still open her eyes, look around, and manage a few gurgling whispers. That's enough to know when she's willing to risk her stomach rupturing for the sake of cumming. She consented to this constant feeding and fattening long ago, and I make sure to enforce it. Well, it's possible that she didn't consent to every single little thing, but sedatives, post hypnotic suggestion, and some simple Pavlovian association means she doesn't protest anymore. The tracheostomy conducted to employ a ventilator was intended to allow her to continue to speak while machinery took over the chore of breathing. I didn't have to go to the trouble, but I wanted her to be able to express herself. I have no intention of stopping when she hits depressive episodes and begs me to please treat her like a human being, but it's nice to hear her in her right mind now and then.

It doesn't really matter at this point. She can enjoy it or not; the fact remains that it's her purpose to convert calories to fat, both because it's beautiful in a unique way and because it pleases me. I come visit for her fifth feeding of the day, since the pumps at their default rate just keep her from panicking because she feels like she's starving. The physicians warn me that she's already had two cardiac transplants, and her heart is run more by machine than flesh. They say that making her vibrate with pleasure and need while ramping up her feeding pumps is increasingly dangerous. Then again, they've been bitching and moaning about it for months now.

I ask them if they doubt their own abilities.

They tell me no.

I smile. "Challenge accepted."

I love this future 🥰

[fat-topanga]

you should be nibbling on my tummy peeking out of my bottoms 😛

[auxfeed]

Look at you.

You’re sweating again, and I haven’t even fed you yet. Just lying there, buried under your own blubber, pink and soft and panting like it’s work just existing. You make the bed groan louder than you do. Honestly, I’m not sure which is more strained — the mattress or your skin, stretched drum-tight over that monumental belly of yours.

"You're leaking again," I say with a little smirk, dragging a fingertip along the sweaty crease where your side rolls into your hip. The layer of fat there is thick, jiggling even from the lightest touch. "Poor thing. So overfed you can't even cool yourself properly."

You whimper a little — that pathetic, needy noise I’ve trained you to make. Half shame, half lust. Music to my ears.

Your belly dominates everything. It’s huge, grotesquely proud, rising in front of you like a fleshy hill, crisscrossed with stretch marks that shine under the overhead light. I cup the underside — it’s hot, heavy, almost too much for my hands. Not that you’d know. You haven’t seen your feet in a year. Maybe more.

"I can’t believe how far you’ve let yourself go," I whisper, feeding you the first bite of syrup-drenched pancake. You chew slowly, eyes fluttering. “No control. No dignity. Just lying there, waiting to be fed, like a piglet on its back.”

You try to shift — to move, to respond — but even that small effort makes your cheeks flush and your breath catch. Your own body is a prison now, built one bite at a time. And I hold the key.

"You wanted this," I remind you, voice low, coaxing. "Remember how cocky you were when we started? Said you'd never get that big. Said you’d stop before you lost mobility. Look at you now."

I slap your belly lightly — a soft, satisfying whump that echoes off your thighs. You groan, partly from the impact, partly from the reminder that you can’t even flinch away.

"You're mine," I say, leaning in, my voice syrup-sweet. "My spoiled, spoiled blob. A mountain of lard I keep fed and helpless. You can't even roll over without me pushing you."

Another bite. Then another. I press the shake to your lips again. You hesitate — full already, maybe even hurting — but I tilt it anyway. “Drink. That belly’s not done growing yet.”

You whimper as it goes down, eyes wet, belly churning beneath the surface. Every swallow is a surrender. Every breath, a struggle under the weight you’ve begged me to build.

And I know you love it. The shame. The helplessness. The way I talk to you like you’re not even a person anymore — just a thing to fatten and admire.

You're mine. My project. My prize. My pet. My pig.

And we’re not even close to done.

[stufffmuffin]

My attempt at showing off my cutesy “I’m literally just a girl” pin before my titties caused the backing to fall off in public/become lost. 🙄😂 Also,I’m an obnoxious gum chewer,forgive me plsssssss~!

[glutonly-deactivated20260412]

[gutlover1]

[livestockprincess]

i love the thought of moving in with a death feeder thinking, “this’ll be sooo hot getting to play out my fantasies,” but not fully grasping what’s about to happen to me. yeah, i’ve gotten off to the thought quite often, but i hadn’t ACTUALLY considered what life will be like at 700 lbs. it’s fucking erotic, but let’s face it, pretty miserable. he’ll enable the fuck out of me and get me more hooked than i already am, we’ll dirty talk about blowing me up into an immobile blob while we fuck, and one day it’ll be my reality. finally, i’ll be pinned to the bed, scared for my life, and that’ll be it for me. that’s my new life. but it’s what i begged for so desperately, right? he’ll laugh at and tease me while i sob into my next burger thinking about little 300 pound me begging for him to make me like this wishing i could be her again so badly. i mean, he never lied about what he intended to do to me, and i happily agreed to it… i guess that’s what you get for moving in with scary men you meet online. but i’m sure i’d only want to do it all over again.

[rosita40]

[md21770]

[stronglyloudbasilisk]

Cute but still not big enough, I'm enjoying imagining the slick in that fupa from whatever now useless genitals are in there

[md21770]

[cloudsofnothing]

Super morbidly obese. That much weight would be impossible to ignore—and your health would feel it. Your heart would be working overtime just to keep you going, struggling to pump blood through so much extra tissue. You’d probably feel it sometimes, that heaviness in your chest, the occasional flutter or strain after a short walk or even just standing for too long. Your blood pressure would be higher, your pulse pounding harder, your body constantly fighting to keep up with the mass you’ve added.

Your lungs would labor under the weight of your expanding chest and belly. Lying down, you’d feel the fat pressing against your diaphragm, making it harder to breathe. You might wake up gasping, feeling like your own bulk is suffocating you in your sleep. Sleep apnea would almost be guaranteed, the fat around your neck narrowing your airway, leaving you snoring loudly or choking for air throughout the night. You’d likely need a CPAP just to breathe properly while you sleep.

Your joints—knees, hips, and ankles—would be screaming from the constant strain. Carrying around hundreds of extra pounds would grind away at the cartilage, leaving you stiff, sore, and slow. You’d feel it in the morning, joints aching, feet swollen from supporting so much weight day after day. Walking would become more of a shuffle, your steps heavier, slower, shorter. Stairs would be agonizing, your thighs burning after just a few steps, your chest heaving for air at the top.

Your digestive system would struggle too. The constant overeating would make you prone to heartburn and indigestion, your stomach overfilled and stretched, pressing against your other organs. You’d likely experience frequent bloating, feeling heavy and sluggish after every meal, your belly so full it weighs you down, making you lethargic and sleepy.

And your skin—it would struggle to keep up with your growing size. Stretch marks would splinter across your thighs, belly, and arms, vivid and deep, a permanent reminder of how fast you’ve grown. Your skin would chafe painfully in the folds, especially around your belly and thighs, where moisture and friction would irritate it. You might develop rashes or sores, the constant rubbing making your skin raw and tender.

Your liver would suffer too. With so much weight, you’d likely develop non-alcoholic fatty liver disease (NAFLD), your liver becoming engorged with fat, slowly becoming less efficient. You might not feel it at first, but over time, it would sap your energy, making you feel tired and sluggish even when you haven’t done anything strenuous.

And then there’s your mobility. Simple movements would become exhausting. Getting out of a car or off a low couch would leave you breathless, having to brace yourself with both arms, rocking forward before standing. Even rolling over in bed would take effort, your own weight holding you down, making you feel almost pinned by yourself.

But the scariest part? The slow decline. The numbness in your legs from poor circulation. The swelling in your ankles from fluid retention. The constant fatigue, no matter how much you rest. The aches in your chest that you ignore until they linger too long. You’d grow accustomed to the discomfort, accepting it as part of life, even as your body slowly breaks down under the weight.